Everyone Here Is Lying(31)

“I was up quite late and saw you and the other detective take Ryan Blanchard away in a car. Is he under suspicion? Do you think he might be the one who took Avery?”

Gully shakes her head. “I can’t discuss that.”

Finally, Alice stands and grabs her bag, and says, “I mean, you just never know, do you?”



* * *



? ? ?

When Gully is finished with Alice Seton, Bledsoe sees her and waves her into his office. She can tell that he’s not happy.

“What is it?” she asks, sitting down in front of his desk.

“We got the preliminary forensics back on Wooler’s car. Nothing.” He slaps the report down on his desk in disgust. “Literally nothing. He must have vacuumed the whole thing out.”

“When would he have done that?” Gully asks. “He wouldn’t have had much time.”

Bledsoe turns to her. “If he did it, this fucker is smarter than he looks. He’s dumped her body someplace we can’t find it. Maybe he stopped at a car wash and vacuumed out his trunk. Get someone checking all the car washes in the area—maybe there’s camera footage or maybe someone will remember him.” She nods. “Who keeps their trunk that clean? It’s been vacuumed recently, that’s for sure.”





Nineteen


Gwen Winter is a single mom. She has one child, Adam, and she loves him more than life itself. But Adam has autism, and life is not easy for either one of them. She worries about his future. It’s a constant battle, navigating the world on behalf of a child with autism, and she is exhausted all the time. Her husband left them when Adam was only four; he wasn’t up to the challenge. He couldn’t deal with the meltdowns; the public embarrassment; the judgment; the lack of a normal life, doing normal things. Life with Adam wasn’t what they’d expected when they decided to start a family. They couldn’t do the same activities other families did without thinking—not with Adam’s sensory issues and his behavioral problems. So Mark left and she has had to do it all. The problems with the schools have been the worst. It’s better now that Adam’s in a special school, where they seem to understand him better. He’s less upset, calmer. And there are kids there who are also on the spectrum, who share his interests. Bright kids who experience the world differently.

She hears a knock on the door and looks up from her computer—she works from home as a bookkeeper; the dining-room table acts as her office. She doesn’t get many people knocking on her door during the day. It might be the police again, going up and down the street, about that missing girl. She opens the door and sees a woman she doesn’t recognize standing there. “Yes?” she says.

The woman shows her a badge, but she barely gets a chance to glance at it. Gwen immediately thinks something’s happened with Adam. She’s had so many complaints over the years.

“I’m Detective Gully,” the woman says, “Stanhope Police. May I come in?”

“Yes, of course,” Gwen says, her heart pumping faster.

“We’re investigating the disappearance on Tuesday afternoon of Avery Wooler.”

Gwen nods. This isn’t about anything Adam did, then, it’s just routine—they’re probably seeing if they missed anything. The uniformed police officers were already here the night Avery Wooler disappeared, but she’d had nothing to tell them. She hadn’t seen anything, and neither had Adam. Gwen leads the detective into the living room, and they sit down.

“I understand you have a son, Adam,” the detective begins.

Oh, here we go, Gwen thinks, immediately on the defensive. Years of this have worn her down. It’s about your son, Adam . . . How many times has she heard that? “Yes,” she says tightly. “What about him?”

“Did he know Avery?”

“I think that’s highly unlikely.” She can’t remember him ever mentioning her; she’d never seen her with him. He’s much older than the missing girl. “Adam keeps to himself.”

The detective sighs. “We’ve learned that Avery told a friend that she had a boyfriend—someone older than her. And someone has mentioned seeing Avery with Adam recently,” the detective says gently.

“Oh, really? I doubt it. He’s not her boyfriend. Who said so?” She doesn’t bother to disguise the bitterness in her voice.

“I’m not at liberty to say.”

She shakes her head. “No one around here understands Adam. This is a small-minded town. I’ve been thinking about moving, but I’ve got Adam in a good special school near here, so . . .”

Detective Gully nods sympathetically.

“Adam is a gentle boy at heart. He would never harm anyone.” And it’s true, she knows it. Despite the tantrums, the loss of control, the meltdowns, he wouldn’t actually harm anyone. He’s not made that way.

“Even so, I must ask—where was Adam on Tuesday afternoon, do you know? From around four o’clock on?”

“He was home with me,” she says. “I picked him up from school. We usually get home shortly before four.”

“I understand he has a drone,” Detective Gully says. “Does he use it a lot?”

“Yes,” she answers. “It’s his current obsession.”